


Imperfect Eyes

by Earthiana



Series: Avengers ONESHOTS [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers Family, Domestic Avengers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heterochromia, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Protective Avengers, Protective Steve Rogers, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 13:08:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12059619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Earthiana/pseuds/Earthiana
Summary: The team finds out that Tony has heterochromia.ORTony is self conscious about his eyes.





	Imperfect Eyes

Tony Stark has always hated his eyes.

One blue, one green. Horrible, disgusting, ugly _green_. His mother had heterochromia and, lo and behold, Tony has the same gene.

From as young as he can remember, he wore a blue contact in his green eye to cover the color, as did his mother. It didn’t change the disgust with which Howard looked at him.

“Can’t fucking be normal.” Tony would hear as he tinkered with a circuit board under his father’s desk, just in case a fist flew in his direction; Howard Stark was a mean drunk. “Can’t have a normal son.”

Tony didn’t mind the contacts back then – they saved his life on more than one occasion.

  


They were at MIT when Rhodey found out. Of course he did, they shared a dorm room.

“Tony? Working on something?” He strutted into the room unannounced. It is his room, too. Tony’s hunched over his desk, fiddling with something.

“No!” Tony jumped, then dropped the focus of his attention.

“Tones?”

There was the gentle hand on his shoulder, smoothing out his worries through the light contact. Tony is frozen, however, his heart lurching in his chest.

A slight glance shows Rhodey’s confused face, then a thoughtful smile. “You’re going to be late for class.”

  


So Tony doesn’t _mind_ the contacts but, when Steve Rogers looked him in the eye and asked what he is without his suit, the only thought in Tony’s mind is that he’s a freak.

He rattled off some quick comeback.

The fact doesn’t change: Tony has a mutation, an oddity. Starks aren’t odd – Starks are strong and intelligent and handsome, not freaks of nature.

He needs the contacts.

  


He needs the contacts when he wakes up at 3AM, his heart straining in his chest. Tony doesn’t think it’s important that his hands are clammy or that his eyes are stinging when his feet take him from his bedroom to the communal living space, to where his drinks cabinet is.

“Tony?”

3PM. God damn it.

He closes his eyes mid-step and wobbles in the motion, tripping over his own foot.

“Capsicle.” Tony responds, raising a hand to cover his eyes in what he hopes is a discreet attempt to hide his eyes.

Did he mute Jarvis? How long was he working for? Tony’s certain he muted Jarvis.

“Stark, your eyes are closed.” Clint points out from the couch, eating popcorn with Natasha while they watch some horror movie with lots of screaming. “Might help you to open them.”

“Uh, yeah, probably.” Tony peeks his eyes open, keeping them covered with his hand.

“Tony, what are you doing?” Steve questions, his voice brisk.

Tony finds his way over to the bar, finds something to drink and attempts to open the glass bottle with only one hand.

“For goodness’ sake, Stark.” Steve snatches the bottle away. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing, if you’ll just gimme that and I’ll be on my way…” Stark reaches out a hand but Steve raises the bottle out of his reach.

“Oh, that’s mature.” Tony huffs, closing his eyes so he can cross his arms.

“And what you’re doing is any more mature?” Steve places the bottle on the counter, slides it away when Tony tries to grab it.

It shouldn’t be a big deal. Really, it shouldn’t. Bruce is a green freaking giant, Cap is essentially a zombie, Thor (currently in Asgard) is a god, and the freaky twins are just that: freaky. Natasha is _cackling_ as screams ring out from the speakers.

Why should the color of his eyes be a big deal? It’s not. It’s _not_.

“Tony, are you hurt?” Bruce emerges from the kitchen, sounding concerned. Sounding _concerned_.

Tony open his eyes, bites the inside of his cheek as his hands make fists. “No, I’m not. It’s not a big deal, I just haven’t put my contacts in yet.”

Steve’s staring very obviously at his green eye. Bruce seems equally shocked but is less obvious. Nat and Clint take a moment to turn away from their film (a woman is being decapitated on the screen), then hop over the couch to join the others in staring.

Tony blinks rapidly when his eyes start to prickle and, avoiding their eye contact, he grabs the bottle of vodka and turns on his heels. He wants out of there. Now, the team will think he’s a freak.

“Tony, hey.” Bruce catches his arm, guides him back to the others. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Tony hisses defensively, then shifts his gaze to the floor. “I just wanted to grab a drink, then go back to sleep.”

“Ok, we need to talk about that later.” Bruce runs a hand through his hair before gesturing, with the same hand, at Tony’s face. “You have heterochromia iridium.”

Tony turns slightly so he can paw at his wet face without the others staring.

“It’s not a big deal, ok?” He snaps.

“Of course it isn’t.” Natasha reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder. “They’re beautiful.”

Tony rubs the hem of his shirt, glancing at Nat for a split second before turning his face away.

“We don’t judge you, Tony.” Clint waves his hand in an empty gesture. “Is that what you were worried about?”

“It’s an… oddity.” Stark mumbles, ripping the top from the vodka and taking a mouthful to calm him down. He can’t do this right now. Not after that nightmare.

_“If you were a normal son then we wouldn’t have this problem!” Howard hissed in his face. “Put them in.”_

_Young Tony glanced at the blue contact that he’s supposed to put in his left eye. It’s scratchy and uncomfortable. Can’t he just go outside like everyone else? Tony likes blue and green. Maybe he even looks handsome like his dad._

_“Anthony—” Howard grabbed Tony’s arm and pushed him towards the sink, his grip bruising on the child’s arm. “Don’t make me tell you again.”_

“Nat’s hair is a genetic mutation. Clint is half deaf and I turn into a green mass of muscles. Steve even used to be colour blind and asthmatic.” Bruce is telling him. “We don’t care about the color of your eyes. They might be a genetic oddity, but they look aesthetically pleasing.”

“Daddy-O didn’t seem to think so.” Tony murmurs, taking another sip from the bottle. “Look, I’ll just wear my contacts next—”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Steve tells him, taking the bottle away. “We’re swapping this for water.”

Tony sighs as Steve marches him to the kitchen and practically drowns him in the stuff. With a glass to his lips, the cool liquid disappears down his throat. Steve’s hand finds its way onto Tony’s back, his thumb rubbing free the stress from the top of Tony’s spine.

“You’re an idiot.” Steve tells him.

Tony’s eyes shift to the taller man, imperfect eyes scanning his blond hair, blue eyes, and snowy skin.

He’s an Adonis. Not like Tony’s olive-white skin; dark, curly hair; and unique eyes.

“This you, Tony.” Steve gestures to all of him, then pats him heartily on the back. “It’s perfect.”

Perfect, huh? That could take some getting used to. The olive-white skin. The dark, curly hair. His _eyes_. It’s different and it’s… Steve is staring into his eyes, allowing no room for doubt.

He’s perfect.


End file.
